


Ashoka the Handmaiden

by MrRhapsodist



Series: Sweet Domestic Star Wars Saga [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diapers, Domestic Fluff, Female Friendship, Gen, Naboo Royal Handmaidens (Star Wars), Planet Coruscant (Star Wars), Platonic Cuddling, Stuffed Toys, Tea Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: After leaving the Jedi Order, Ashoka Tano needs somewhere to land. When she goes to Padmé Amidala for a chance to serve her, Ashoka soon discovers there's more to the Senator of Naboo than anyone ever realized.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Sweet Domestic Star Wars Saga [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942525
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Ashoka the Handmaiden

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ashoka Tano called back. She tried not to trip over the hem of her enormous crimson robe. This outfit had never failed to give her any trouble. And after hearing a soft whimper over the intercom, she wasn’t about to add to that.

Reaching the bedroom door, Ashoka used a nudge of the Force to slide it open. It glided in total silence, allowing her to slip inside to the poor child on the bed.

“There, there. I’ve got you.” Ashoka’s arms wrapped around thin shoulders and brushed at a tangle of light brown hair. She shushed into the girl’s ear. “Hey, you’re okay. We’ll get you changed, and we’ll make sure you have something nice to wear today. Does that sound good?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sniffling, the girl turned up to face Togruta. It was a human face she’d come to know well in the last two years. Those giant brown eyes could melt her heart in an instant. “Th-thank you, ’Soka.”

Curling her arms around her, and squeezing her tight, Ashoka let Padmé Amidala snuggle deep into her chest. It wasn’t an easy feat, considering the woman’s slight height advantage and age, but they made it work. Her silk-white gown—the one with the pink embroidery she liked—did little to hide the round padding around her hips. Ashoka had spent more than enough time volunteering at the Jedi Temple nursery to recognize the crinkle of a diaper. Even if it was a bit bigger than the ones the infants wore.

She kissed Padmé on top of her head. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ll have you dry in no time!”

As the other woman laid down for her, Ashoka had to stand and marvel at the sight for a second.

This, she knew, had not been in the job description when she first signed up.

* * *

**_Three Months Earlier_ **

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Senator.” Ashoka Tano nervously bowed her head. It had never been her habit, but standing on the veranda of a Senatorial apartment, it felt disrespectful not to do so.

The stern glare of Captain Typho from across the deck didn’t help matters any. Typho had been of great help in tight spots like the refugee conference on Alderaan, but Ashoka was under no illusions. He didn’t appreciate unexpected visitors. And with the number of attempts on Padmé’s life, she didn’t blame him.

“Ashoka,” Padmé answered, “you never have to apologize to me.”

Before she could even respond, a pair of thin arms swept Ashoka up in a firm hug. She looked up into the sad, smiling face of Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo. She looked radiant in the light of Coruscant’s setting sun. Orange-golden rays bounced off her blue brocade gown and the bronze pins that held her hair up in a bun. Amidala had been the Queen of Naboo once, and seeing her on the veranda, Ashoka had no trouble believing that fact.

Padmé’s face clouded over when she held the Togruta out at arm’s length. “I heard from Anakin what happened. With you and the Jedi Council. I’m truly sorry to hear it.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Well, that’s why I came here.” Rubbing at her arm, Ashoka didn’t resist when Padmé guided her to a nearby couch. They sat down together, still under Captain Typho’s watch from a few paces away. “I’m no longer a Padawan. They... tried to make me a Jedi Knight, but I couldn’t accept it. Not after what they...”

Words burned in her throat, but nothing came out. Ashoka turned her eyes to the marble floor.

Padmé’s hand rested on her shoulder. “I understand. Well, what I can do to help?”

“Honestly?” Ashoka chewed on her bottom lip. She slid her gaze up to the Senator. “This is gonna sound silly, but... I was going to ask you for a job.”

“Oh.” Padmé blinked. Her confusion only lasted a moment, as a slow smile broke out right away. “Well, of course. I would never turn you away, Ashoka.” She patted her shoulder, and as she did, Padmé cast a teasing smile back to the security officer standing by. “Provided there’s room in my protection detail?”

Typho chuckled. “I would never say no to having a former Jedi in our service, M’Lady.”

“Actually, it doesn’t have to be security.” Ashoka shrugged. “I’m good at a few other things. Maybe not to the level of your handmaidens, but—”

“Well, why not?”

The question made Ashoka freeze. “I’m sorry?”

Padmé smiled, tilting her head closer. “Why couldn’t you be a handmaiden? Captain Typho, are there any guidelines in the court protocols about species?”

“Not... necessarily, M’Lady.” Typho’s mouth flattened into a grim line. He shifted in place, turning slightly from Ashoka to put all his attention on the Senator. “The, ah, protocols make no mention of species. It’s only custom that, as all previous monarchs were Human, recruiting attendants and body doubles would mean that Humans and Near-Humans are strictly preferred.”

A mysterious light flickered in Padmé’s stare. “But it’s only a preference, Captain?”

Ashoka had to admit she felt a little sorry for Typho. Watching him try to maintain composure as the experienced politician put him on trial for Naboo’s traditions was quite the show. She hadn’t fared much better during the Senate trial she’d been made to endure. And when she flashed back to the cold, lonely dock, with Admiral Tarkin grilling her story to pieces, Ashoka had to remember Padmé’s soft voice calling out against him, urging restraint and reason when it felt as if the entire galaxy was crying out for the Padawan’s suffering.

She missed the rest of Typho’s reply, only picking up Padmé’s voice when she asked, “And would you take such a position if I offered it?”

“I guess I might.” Ashoka fiddled with her fingers in her lap. “I only hope I’d do a good job.”

Padmé touched her shoulder again, all but snuggling up against Ashoka on the couch.

“Of that,” she said, “I have no doubt you will. Welcome to the handmaidens, Ashoka Tano.”

Being unable to hold back—and trying to fight off tears—Ashoka rushed in for a hug. She buried her face in Padmé’s neck and savored the gentle hands rubbing at her back.

After that lonely walk away from the Temple, she needed that.

* * *

Dormé of Naboo was a face that Ashoka quickly learned to trust. She became her mentor, helping her get fitted for a new set of robes, which _had_ to complement whatever attire Padmé would be wearing that day. It was hard, at first, not to think of Dormé as one of the Senator’s relatives, given how close in appearance they were. Later, between all the etiquette lessons in the kitchen and on the veranda, she became slightly more of a taskmaster. Closer to Obi-Wan Kenobi than Anakin Skywalker, Ashoka noticed. Dormé would clap her hands at the start of each lesson and tilt her head as if to say, _Keep up, Padawan._

It also took Ashoka a few weeks to stop seeing herself as someone’s Padawan.

But, on the day she was brought before Senator Amidala, Ashoka walked in alongside Dormé, wearing a scarlet and gold-trimmed robe with her hood up. She took each step as measured as her mentor did, and when Dormé bowed, Ashoka let the Force whisper in her ear when to do the same.

Standing in her living room, in a lavender peasant’s dress with a silver halo fixed behind her head, Padmé clasped her hands together in delight. She stepped forward and pulled away the hood from Ashoka’s face.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” she assured her. “Even though you might never pass as a decoy for me, I know I can trust you, Ashoka. With my secrets, and with my safety.”

“Of course...” Ashoka hesitated. “Of course, M’Lady.”

“Very good,” Dormé whispered. She winked underneath her hood.

Padmé glanced between her two handmaidens with an odd smile. Ashoka caught it right away. It looked strained. Almost embarrassed.

“I, ah, suppose she deserves to see the rest of the apartment?” she asked Dormé.

“The rest?” Ashoka glanced around the expansive suite. “How big _is_ this place?”

“There is one room we use that isn’t open to any guests,” Dormé replied. From the angle of her hood, only her mouth was visible as she spoke. “If you would follow me, Ashoka?”

Padmé followed close behind the two women, flashing a reassuring grin to Ashoka’s puzzled expression. Dormé moved at a slow pace, reaching down to pinch at something on the edge of her sleeve. Ashoka had recognized it early on during her lessons. Theed Engineering had some kind of transponder or signal beacon built into the robes of royal handmaidens, giving them access to classified sections of the royal palace or the Senator’s dwelling.

There was no beep or flash of light. A section of the hallway slid open, revealing a room beyond the artwork-covered wall. Dormé stepped aside and waved for Ashoka to enter.

She nearly froze when she saw was lay within.

It was a nursery, but the proportions were all wrong. There was a crib, a rocking chair, a changing table, and a fluffy blue carpet with a pile of stuffed animals near the closet. In the corner was a deactivated nanny droid, similar to a BD-3000 droid but equipped with four arms. Each arm looked reinforced with durasteel, as if the droid were to carry a child on the scale of a Hutt or a Wookiee. And the moment she crossed the threshold, Ashoka caught a breezy scent in the air. It reminded her of flowers she’d encountered on Naboo, blooming in window boxes outside several homes in Theed.

“Padmé—I mean, my... M’Lady...” Ashoka shook her head. “I don’t understand. Are you... I mean, do you have a...?”

“I’m not expecting children if that’s what you mean, Ashoka.” The Senator fixed her with a teasing smile. “No, you wouldn’t think to look at me, but...” She gestured to the room. “It’s for me. All of it.”

Ashoka could only stare.

Dormé coughed quietly. “Perhaps we should sit down and explain.”

* * *

When See-Threepio came in to pour cups of tea, he showed no sign of surprise about the nursery. Ashoka wondered if he had ever let anything slip to Artoo, or to Anakin, who had visited Padmé’s apartment often enough. But then, she’d known better than to voice her suspicions about their relationship to anyone in the Jedi Order. Even Obi-Wan had to have known and chosen not to say anything.

The protocol droid shuffled out, and Padmé smiled at her newest handmaiden. “So, you have some questions.”

“One or two,” Ashoka admitted. “First of all: _how_ do you keep this a secret?”

“Through years of extensive training with my handmaidens.” Padmé grinned at Dormé, who nodded and sipped at her tea. “Next question.”

“Okay. Um...” Rubbing at her eyes, Ashoka noted the ivory-white crib and changing table—and their adult-sized dimensions. “So, next question is... _why_ do you have this?”

Padmé fell silent. She gazed into her teacup for a while.

“I have nightmares,” she said. “Ever since the Trade Federation invaded, ever since Geonosis and the nexu that tore into my back...” A shiver ran along Padmé’s face. “And sometimes, when the stress of being Queen or all my work in the Senate gets to me, I don’t stay a mature adult like the one you’re speaking to now. Sometimes, the pressure gets to be too much and I turn... little.”

“Little?”

“Like a child.” Padmé shrugged. “Or even like a baby.”

“Hence all that.” Ashoka gestured to the changing table and stuffed animals. Her gaze did linger on the cute plush Jawa figure. She had to hold back a chuckle at the thought of Anakin having a similar toy from growing up on Tatooine. “I mean, when you do have _time_ for all this?”

“You’d be surprised.” Padmé grinned, as did Dormé. “Sometimes, it’s not me casting my vote in the Senate, but one of my handmaidens acting on my behalf.”

“And when that happens,” Dormé added, “Padmé will be here, adorably playing with her dolls and having her diaper changed.”

Ashoka blinked. “You’re kidding.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Padmé shook her head, her whole face going red. “She’s really not. And I’ll tell you another secret. Sometimes I wear one when I’m out in public.” She stopped to giggle at the shocked face Ashoka made. “What? It’s true. Do you have any idea how hard it is to slip into the refresher and remove five layers of clothing every time? Even with Dormé’s help? At times, a diaper is just... convenient.”

“I would never have guessed.” Ashoka shook her head. She’d barely touched her tea, and when she took a sip, she grimaced at how cold it had turned. At least the herbal taste wasn’t bad. “So, all of this will be part of my duties, too?”

Padmé and Dormé exchanged a glance.

“It doesn’t have to be, M’Lady,” said the handmaiden. “We can have Ellé or Moteé fill in if she has other roles to—”

“I’m well aware.” Padmé frowned. Turning back to Ashoka, her eyes were warm. “It’s your choice, Ashoka. Even though you’re pledged to my service, I would never ask you to do something you didn’t feel comfortable with.”

Ashoka looked into those eyes. She remembered them over a dejarik table on the flight back from Alderaan. She’d felt secure with someone like Padmé giving her full attention to her. Even with an assassination attempt, their time together had been a respite from the constant war.

“I want to help,” she told Padmé and Dormé. Smiling, Ashoka added, “In any way I can.”

Padmé clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Ashoka, this is going to be so much fun!”

By the end of that afternoon, interrupted only by a holocomm call with Senator Mon Mothma, Padmé and Dormé showed Ashoka the ins and outs of the secret nursery. She hadn’t expected to end her day with seeing Padmé undressed from her regalia, put in a frilly blue dress and diaper, and given a pacifier to suck on. But the absolute joy in the older woman’s eyes made Ashoka grin, and she quickly learned the names of every plush doll in the Senator’s private collection.

“...That’s Teedo, and that’s Wynni, and this is Jysella!” Padmé’s voice had risen half an octave, the same pitch as any five-year-old youngling would make. The diaper she wore made her waddle across the floor as Padmé dropped a miniature loth-cat into Ashoka’s arms. “Jysella goes meow! And she’s real fussy!”

“I’ll bet she is.” Ashoka smiled, turning the loth-cat around in her hands. “But how is she at tea parties?”

“She loves them!” Padmé clapped her hands and plopped onto the floor next to Ashoka. Her diaper crinkled, and Ashoka giggled at the sound. She lowered herself next to Padmé, putting Jysella the loth-cat into her hands. Ashoka hesitated before wrapping both arms around the overgrown little girl’s waist and cuddling her back.

As strange as her day had turned, the sight of Padmé giggling and snuggling her stuffed friends was a relief from the chaos in Coruscant and across the whole galaxy.

Ashoka made a vow to herself. She wouldn’t let anyone bring the war or politics into this place. It was too pure to be ruined like everything else.

Meanwhile, she could be content serving tea and biscuits to Padmé and all her toys.

* * *

**_Now_ **

The little girl giggled through the pacifier Ashoka popped into her mouth. As Padmé spread her legs, Ashoka wasted no time getting her into a fresh diaper. She knew how to clean quickly and add a bit of scented gel to her thighs. Her colleague Moteé spared no expense in purchasing the finest ointments and scents for their mistress before she was due out in public.

Once the new diaper was in place, Ashoka leaned over and ruffled Padmé’s hair. “That’s better.”

Padmé giggled again. But the moment didn’t last. Even as she laughed, her eyes had begun to glaze over. Ashoka leaned away from the bed, hands clasped behind her back as she watched the transformation occur. It was a subtle change, watching a bouncy light fade from the woman’s eyes, replaced by a slightly sad look of concentration. When Padmé reached up to rub at her temples and yawned, Ashoka cleared her throat.

“Welcome back, Senator,” she said with a bow.

“Good morning, Ashoka.” Gone was the high-pitched voice and lisp, replaced by the smooth and elegant Amidala that all of Coruscant knew. “I can’t wait to get back to this state. I don’t care much for the security amendments we’re debating today.”

Once, Ashoka would have rolled her eyes and made a smart remark about political sleaze. But having stood next to Padmé and Elle in the Senate chambers, having listened to the tactics and cues Padmé navigated so carefully, she understood things a little better. Sometimes waiting for one pompous tirade to end before skillfully picking apart the argument did pay off. Ashoka had a feeling that Master Kenobi would have approved of that lesson.

When she stood, Padmé’s hips rustled with the diaper underneath her nightgown. She smiled at herself in the full-length mirror, brushing her fingers through her hair. Ashoka took her cue and summoned a hairbrush from across the room. The Force made it sing as it flew into her waiting hand. She stood beside Padmé at the boudoir, fussing over every kink and tangle in her hair until it came out in gentle waves that Dormé would shape during breakfast.

“I think the green dress with that violet sash would go well for today.” Padmé’s lips quirked into a melancholy smile as she gazed into the mirror. “We’ll keep it simple for the security bills.”

“And do you want that with or without the pendants?” Ashoka asked, still brushing at her hair.

“Hmm.” Padmé frowned. “Maybe just the japor snippet today.” Slowly, a hint of that happy light came into her eyes. “I’ll need whatever luck I can bring into the Senate today.”

“If you ever need a mind trick or two”—Ashoka grinned—“you only have to say the word.”

“Tempting, but no, thank you.” Padmé had to grin as well. Her eyes met Ashoka’s face in the reflection. “If I pull anything like that, I’ll be in trouble with the Jedi Council _and_ their critics.”

Ashoka nodded. “Of course. I was only joking.”

“I know.” Padmé reached up, pausing Ashoka’s brush to grip her hand over her shoulder. “I trust you. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

“It’s a promise, M’Lady.” Ashoka leaned down for a hug around her shoulders. “Because I’m the one who gets to change your diaper every morning, remember?”

Padmé’s laugh echoed through the sunlit chamber. “As if I could ever forget!”

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched some of The Clone Wars recently, and I'm miffed that no one did more with Padmé and Ashoka's relationship. It's too cute. Originally, this was going to be a story about an injured Ashoka needing diapers and having Padmé and her handmaidens take care of her. But then I considered switching up the roles, and the story wrote itself from there.
> 
> If you'd like to see more of this pairing, please let me know, and thank you for reading!


End file.
